


More Than My Whole Life

by wordslinger



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: F/M, I really hate the Irene version of Erza's mother's name, It's Eileen, Princess/Knight AU, jerza - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 00:03:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12287013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordslinger/pseuds/wordslinger
Summary: The First General's duty is always to the Queen but the Princess sits on the throne in his heart.





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> In 4/2017 I posted a request of this same name. It can be found as Chapter 1 here and Chapter 68 of [Prompt Requests](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5798350/chapters/23431212). This continuation will be a total of three parts including the original chapter. It is a princess/knight-ish story but there's some elements of it that may require suspension of belief. The language is somewhat dated and formal but kevlar and firearms exist.

_i._

* * *

The braids were a nod to her mother, of course, but Erza was in far too petty a mood to have only _one_ reason – perhaps another nod to her mother. She knew he'd hate them and that was just fine because she _wanted_ him to hate them. He'd been gone for nearly a fortnight on some ridiculous royal nonsense and as such he should be punished. Erza knew better than to _truly_ blame him – as the First General of the _Secretum Oficii_ he answered to the queen alone and carried out her official, and sometimes personal, business with the utmost secrecy – but she still _wanted_ to blame him. And would.

Erza's fingers tucked the last strands of her hair into the complicated twist of braids and stood. Her hands ran downward over the corset that had been made especially for her. The silk was a deep crimson and covered by a complex Bedfordshire lace design of the darkest black. Curls of clothtrail had been embroidered over with a shockingly scarlet thread. The skirt wasn't much more than a gauzy wrap about her hips. She didn't bother with anything else.

A breeze ruffled the drapes at the edges of her window and the faint sound of the vine leaves whipping against the brick outside pricked her ears. Erza's hand dipped quickly into the top right vanity drawer. Her blood red lips twitched into a smirk as she slipped behind the drapes that brushed the floor.

She saw his gloved hands first before he leapt soundlessly over the edge of the open window into a crouch on the floor. He'd barely stood to his full height before the metal of her knife glinted in the candlelight. Erza pressed the blade against his neck just shy of drawing blood.

“You're late,” she whispered hotly in his ear.

“I came as soon as time permitted, your Royal Highness.” His voice was strained and Erza enjoyed his care of her knife against his neck.

“I don't believe you.” She dropped the knife to the place on his hip where his body armor had a small gap – a bit of information not well known to anyone outside of an intimate space with a member of the _Secretum Oficii._ Erza poked the tip of her blade through the small gap. “I should gut you here and now.”

“To think my blood should spill on your skin would be an honor, Your Highness.” The tone was unexpectedly reverent and Erza faltered. In that fraction of a second, he spun on her and took her wrist in an iron grip. She felt the cold brick against her arms as he lifted them and towered over her. “But I don't think that's going to happen today.”

“Your arrogance is unbecoming. Release me at once.” Her words came out less forceful than intended, so she resulted to physical violence. Erza's knee swiftly shot up – only to be caught with his free hand. The leather of his glove was warm against her thigh. The First General wasted no time in sliding past the thin fabric at her hip.

“You must release _me_ first, Your Highness. My heart and body have long been in your possession.” He held her thigh at his waist and leaned in so that his nose brushed hers. “Am I free, Princess?”

“How dare you employ seduction against _me!_ ” she huffed, her eyes falling to his lips.

“Are you offended it is you against the wall and not me at the end of your blade?” He grinned and brought his body further against hers. “The very same blade I put in your hand when we were children? _I'm_ the offended party, Princess.”

He released her and stepped backward into the low light of her bedroom. Erza caught her breath before stepping from the shadows herself. On the cusp of forgiving him for the crime of leaving her for so long, she instead felt a surge of wickedness when his eyes lit on her hair.

“Does your cruelty know no ends?” He grinned and rested lightly on the edge of her bed. “I suppose I should expect as much from the daughter of the Queen.”

“You very well should.” Erza left the knife on the surface of her vanity and crossed the room to stand between his feet. “I look forward to your struggle in untangling them.”

“Perhaps I should shave it all off with your own blade? Your vanity is appalling.”

“You wouldn't. I think that would upset _you_ more than _me.”_ His gloved hand rose to touch one of the braids but she caught his wrist. Erza met his eyes and peeled the glove off one finger at a time. “I would have your skin on mine, First General.”

The pads of his fingers brushed over her cheeks first before touching the coils of braids. Erza brought her knee around his hip and balanced against the mattress. She took his other hand and let the second glove fall to the floor. Without breaking from his eyes, she pulled his cloak loose and ran her fingers over his still covered chest before wrapping her arms around his neck. He secured her against him but his hands didn't venture below the corset. One finger traced the embroidered clothtrail thoughtfully.

“Are your thoughts wandering?” she asked with more trepidation than she'd like. He smiled and the lines of the tattoo that had been on his face for as long as Erza could remember, crinkled.

“When I'm away from the palace, my thoughts are ever wandering but not tonight. They have nowhere else to hunger for when I'm with you.” He first kissed her with the kind of sweet devotion one expected from the blossoming love of youth – but his second kiss stirred the fire in her soul. She rose on one foot and her knee slid further onto the mattress. Erza marveled – as always – at how he fit so impossibly perfect between her legs. Perhaps they'd been formed in the womb with one another in mind.

“Were you in danger?” she breathed when his mouth dropped first to her shoulder.

“I'm always in danger.” He sucked lightly on the skin of her neck and Erza shivered.

“My mother should –” Without warning he pulled back and his green eyes pierced hers.

“Use me at her convenience? There are places only I can go and missives only I can deliver. I am her willing servant.”

“But –”

“This is our dance, _Princess_.” His ever so light emphasis on her title stung her eyes. “Easy is a luxury those in our stations do not have.”

“She knows,” Erza whispered. He smiled.

“Of course she does, love. She knew long before I ever had the audacity to enter through the window.” Erza pursed her lips and inched her fingers under the body armor at his waist. She wanted it off. He obliged her and pulled the black turtleneck over his head before tearing the thick velcro straps from his shoulders. Once free of the kevlar, Erza pressed herself against him once more. The swell of her breasts spilled over the bust of her corset.

“What if –” The First General pressed his thumb to her lips and swiped the ruined lipstick away.

“What if, why not, how come... we could pose these questions forever.” He kissed her softly and Erza's toes positively curled. “I would put your lips to better use.”

Before she could even lose her balance he was behind her with firm hands on her bare shoulders. His fingers deftly tugged on the laces of her corset. As it fell from her body his hands curved around her ribs to cover her breasts.

“The world is what it is, Erza.” Her eyes slid closed at the breath of her name on her neck. “Spending my nights with you is more than I have ever deserved. The Queen favors me and chooses not to have me executed for the crime of loving her daughter.” The tips of his fingers tickled the sides of her neck before picking through the coils of braids. _“You_ are the most valuable thing to her. You are the reason the King has been cold in the ground since before you took your first step. She will let you keep me as long as you please.”

She wasn't surprised at how quickly tangles of her hair whispered against her shoulders and back. The golden hairpins tinkled against the tiled floor.

“You aren't my plaything,” Erza said quietly. He gathered the crimped mass of scarlet to one side and kissed her neck again. His lips found the shell of her ear.

“No?” he asked, his breath sending a shiver down her spine. “It is all I aspire to be.”

When Erza's back hit the mattress he kissed her with bruising force. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she realized he'd – at some point – left his pants and boots behind. The First General had always distracted her so. She arched her back and he took the pink tip of her breast into his mouth. Erza grasped at the tufts of blue hair and pulled him to her lips. He exhaled against her mouth when he entered her and his fingers dug into her thigh.

Erza didn't give him time to catch his breath before shoving him to his back and perching on his hips. She moved in a slow rhythm taking in every flutter of his lashes and every twitch in his belly. The quilted pattern of her duvet would leave a mark on her knees but Erza was unconcerned.

He was a thorough but demanding lover. As quickly as she'd unseated him, he grabbed her waist and flipped her around, the last of her lipstick smeared on the duvet. His chest was hot against her back and his fingers between her legs, unapologetically nimble. He dragged her over the terrible ledge of her desire in a moment that felt too swift for comfort. A hand planted in the mattress near her head and Erza craned to press a kiss to his wrist.

_“Jellal,”_ she breathed, the air stirring the moisture on his wrist and sending a chill down his arm. Erza never said his name beyond the confines of her bedroom. She couldn't. One day, perhaps, but for now he would remain First General Fernandes of the _Secretum Oficii._

His body fell to the bed beside her and Erza shifted into his waiting arms. Just below his shoulder was a still-pink scar. She touched it lightly before pressing a kiss to the spot.

“Does it still hurt,” she whispered.

“Not as much as the other outcome.” His eyes fixated on hers with a humor Erza didn't think appropriate.

“I don't like to think about you dying.” She clasped her fingers around his wrist when he cupped her cheek. His lips curled into an affectionate – but exhausted – grin.

“Then don't.” He kissed her once before pulling her against his chest. She thought for sure she heard him whisper her name once more before, _“I love you more than my whole life.”_


	2. ii.

_ii._

* * *

The crowd pulsed and pushed. Frantic shouts mingled with the thunder of feet on the ground. A third gunshot cut through the din easily and the First General was finally able to triangulate the location of the shooter. He raised his wrist to his mouth and barked orders at his _Secretum Oficii._ His words were brief but he trusted they would be understood and executed flawlessly in his absence.

His hand closed around the Queen's bicep and she whirled around. Her face betrayed little but he recognized fury in the hard set of her mouth. Any and all acts of terrorism – especially within the walls of the palace – were handled with a swift and terrible justice. The First General felt not one bit of pity for the perpatraitors of this violent chaos.

“Allow me to escort you to safety, Your Grace,” he said firmly. The Queen nodded and granted him the close quarter necessary to shield her body with his own.

“My daughter?” she asked once they were clear of the main throng.

“My Lieutenant will bring her. I have confirmation he is with her now.”

The evening had gone surprisingly well up until this point, considering the size of the guest list. The First General had overseen the vetting of the supplementary guard himself as well as every single press pass issued. He hated the media almost as much as he hated royal balls and other such gatherings. Normally his _Secretum Oficii_ didn't handle security at social events but the sheer number of high profile guests demanded his attention.

Before he'd abandoned the array of monitors in the A/V room, his eyes stopped on the camera that oversaw the hallway containing the Princess's suite. He watched his newly promoted Second Lieutenant escort her down the hallway toward the party. The First General had serious misgivings with assigning the Lieutenant to be with the Princess for the evening but both his Commanders were otherwise occupied with visiting heads of state. He simply could not spare the manpower and his duty was always to the Queen. Before they'd rounded the corner, the Princess glanced up at the camera and winked. Because he'd been alone the First General allowed himself a smile. Respenendant as always, it had been the last time he'd seen her before taking up his position at the Queen's elbow.

With every turn the noise behind them grew quieter. Only when the First General pushed open the door to the safe room for her, did the Queen allow herself an audible breath. It was easy to see where the Princess inhereted her beauty, however, where she was soft and smiling, the Queen was sharp and shrewd. The voice in his ear was that of his First Commander.

“Your Grace, the gunman has been detained. Once the remaining guests have been safely evacuated and accounted for we can sweep the palace for any unauthorized presence.”

“Thank you, First General.” Her voice was steady but her hands were on her hips. She was agitated.

The door to the safe room opened and the Second Commander came to stand at his left. When he turned to her, the First General did not care for her expression.

“Sir,” she began. The door opened again and a wilted Second Lieutenant was shoved through forecefully by his First Lieutenant. Macbeth wasn't a man known for facial expressions but there was nothing but rage in his drawn eyebrows. “There is a second gunman.”

“Is there a reason you aren't apprehending him?” The First General demanded. Macbeth jerked the arm of the Second Lieutenant. Sawyer wouldn't meet his eyes and the First General felt angry bile creeping upward from his stomach.

“Palace police believe they have him cornered in the East Garden, Sir.”

“And you?” The First General demanded of Sawyer.

“Where is my daughter?” The Queen cut in. “Is this not your Second Lueitenant?”

“Yes,” the First General bit out.

“She –” Sawyer sucked in a shaking, and rightly terrified, breath. “I was ambushed.” A million sharp replies whirled in the First General's head. His fingers itched to reach for his sidearm and end this coward's life for abandoning the Princess to a terrorist with a gun.

“First General,” the Queen said in a voice so low it was nearly a whisper. “Would you be so kind as to retrieve my daughter?”

The First General bowed deeply before the Queen and spun around toward the door. On his way out, he ripped Sawyer's rank from his uniform and handed it off to his Second Commander.

“Lock him up,” the First General bit out. “We'll deal with him later.” Sorano nodded, followed by Macbeth. Sawyer wilted further.

The hallways were all but empty now and the silence loomed. His boots clomping on the floors and his cloak swirling were the only thing he could hear until the voice in his ear belonging to his First Commander directed him to the East Garden – which was unfortunately still populated with guests. Palace police swarmed the area but the Princess was not immediately visible.

“Hey!” a harsh, female voice shouted. “You can't –” The First General spun to face the officer. _“Oh,”_ she breathed. “My apologies, First General.”

“Where is the assailant holding the Princess?”

“Near the fountains, Sir.”

“Why has no one extracted her?”

“Well, there's a good number of instigators in the crowd, Sir. We can't very well start shooting.”

“You can't?” The First General stalked through the crowd and the officer followed.

“No! The instigators are dressed the same as the gunman but we've apprehended two men in fancy dress with flash grenades on their person. There's no real way to tell which... are... uh, Sir?”

“What?”

“You can't –” The officer's mouth dropped open as the First General rooted around in one of the contraband containers and pulled out three smoke grenades and one flash. “You can't just –”

“Let me do my job,” the First General growled before disappearing into the crowd leaving the officer with her mouth hanging open.

The Princess wasn't _near_ the fountains. She was _in_ a fountain. Her dress clung to her body and she shivered in the spray. Tendrils of scarlet stood out against the green ivy and white stone of the fountain. The First General knelt behind a row of shrubs and shed his cloak. He didn't need the extra weight.

“What's your plan?” the voice of the officer said quietly from beside him even though the gunman wouldn't have heard her at a shout for all the noise. The analytical part of his mind wondered if this woman would be available for an interview as the _Secretum Oficii_ suddenly had an opening but the First General stuffed that away for later.

“I'm going to blind him with the flash and distort the area with smoke. The Princess is in the ivy fountain.”

“And the gunman?”

The First General shrugged. “I'll shoot him.”

“In all the chaos?” the officer sounded horrified and his First Commander had the nerve to chuckle in his hear. He was close.

“I won't be alone. You keep an eye on the gap in the shrubs. _Don't_ hesitate to fire.” Before the officer could respond, the First General stood and stepped around the greenery. He averted his gaze before lobbing the flash grenade toward the ivy fountain. Seconds later he flooded the area with thick smoke and prowled through it toward the sound of running water. The Princess's skin was cold and his rage mounted.

“Close your eyes, Your Highness,” he breathed into her ear. “The smoke will sting your eyes.” The First General peeled the tape from her mouth and tore away the binding at her wrists.

“You came for me,” she whispered.

“I will _always_ come for you,” the First General said, pulling her to her feet. She wobbled and reached down to yank off a heel.

“I may have twisted my ankle. I can't run...” the Princess trailed off as he moved to lift her but the sudden pain in his shoulder and thigh pushed a heavy grunt from his lungs. The blood was warm where the water was cold. “First General,” she whispered. For the first time since they were children, he ignored her.

“Where the fuck are you, Commander?” he barked into his wrist even though his shoulder screamed at the bend.

“At the hedge with your wing lady.”

“You –” the blade slicing into the exposed strip of skin between his waistband and body armor cut him off. A strong hand gripped his shoulder and spun him around. The First General shoved the Princess back into the spray of water and without care of his wounded leg, busted shoulder or the leaking hole below his ribs, he pulled his sidearm from it's shoulder holster. He fired twice and the other man crumpled into the now reddening water of the ivy fountain.

The world spun and he felt the floor of the fountain coming up to meet him.


	3. iii.

_iii._

* * *

_“...And this morning the palace police released a statement regarding the terrorist attack over the weekend. The individuals apprehended...”_

… Beep... beep...

_“...agents of the Principality of Veronica...”_

His chest ached and his shoulder screamed dully.

_“The crown prince of Veronica, Prince Cream, has been sequestered at the border until the investigation has been completed. No official statement from the Veronican government has been made at this time.”_

His thigh hurt even worse but the icing on his cake was the stiff pain in his side. Any movement, however slight, nearly blinded him. Atelevision on low volume prattled on as the First General sucked in a sharp breath and tried to relax. The soft beeping of his heart monitor served as a metranome by which he metered his breathing.

“Are you in very much pain?” a familiar voice dragged him from the stupor of morphene. “There's a button –” The First General's eyes fluttered and he finally caught a glimpse of scarlet... _no,_ crimson. “Just here.” She placed the corded button in his palm and positioned his thumb over the depressor.

“Your Grace,” he sighed, trying to swallow the wince. “Forgive me –”

“Nurse, could we have the room, please?” The Queen nodded towards the door and the First General's eyes drooped. She didn't speak again until they were alone. “For what should I forgive you, First General? Saving my daughter's life? For doing what your Second Lieutenant failed to do?” She laughed lightly and her heels clicked on the linoleum floor of his hospital room. “I've come to thank you for doing the exact thing I employ you to do.”

“She should've never been taken in the first place.”

“That much is true, but the blame is not yours to bear.” The Queen circled his bed and stood near the window. In the afternoon sun, her hair sparkled as blood might if spilled quickly. “Despite extraneous circumstances, your duty has always been to _me_ first. There was nothing inappropriate in your assignment of someone else to my daughter. Former Second Lieutenant Sawyer will be dealt with.”

The First General's mind reeled as the events of the bloody evening flickered in his memory. He snagged on something pink and fearless. “There was a young woman. Palace police, I believe. I want her.”

The Queen laughed. “Are your affections so fickle, First General?”

“No,” he huffed painfully. “She assisted me and my First Commander. I want to –”

“Am I truly so stoic and terrifying that my attempts at humor fail so miserably?” The Queen's smile was brief. “You wish to fill your Second Lieutenant's place?”

“It's worth looking into. She followed my orders quickly and efficiently.”

“Without question?”

The First General would've laughed if he weren't in so much pain. “Well, she did actually but she was right to.”

“I trust you to fill your _Secretum Oficii_ without micromanagement.” The Queen stepped away from the window and approached his bed. “Outside of my daughter, there is not a soul in this world I trust more than you.”

The First General's side stole his breath with a stab of pain and his thumb pressed down on the red button. He couldn't catch a full breath for nearly a minute. “My apologizes, Your Grace.”

“Let me do the talking, First General.” The Queen's eyes flit everywhere in the room before lighting on his face. “When you first came into my wardship you were nothing but a scrawny boy all elbows and knees. I admit it wasn't until you befriended my daughter that I recognized your worth. I never wanted to manage the care of another child,” she added with the smallest of grins.

“I would be nothing without your kindness, Your Grace.”

“You would be many things, First General,” the Queen countered in a whisper. “Just elsewhere. I'm grateful that is not the case.” She leaned against his bedrail and the First General could feel her calculating gaze. He knew it well. She had words on her tongue. “I never liked my husband, though, I had plenty of time to learn the skill. Betrothal can be a blessing or a curse – there is little inbetween. I took from him the one thing of value and discarded the rest.” Her laugh was intended to be light but he felt the weight of it. “He wanted a son as a first born. I... did not share that sentiment.”

“Your Grace,” the First General bit out. “There is no need –”

“There _is.”_ The Queen's smile turned rueful. “I don't take orders from you when you're in good health, First General, what makes you think I will now that you're in a hospital bed?”

The First General let his eyes fall shut briefly. He couldn't decide which was worse: his chagrin or his condition. When he opened his eyes again she was still gazing at him with the same curious expression.

“I don't care to treat my daughter as a commodity, First General. She is worth so much more than political alliances and everything that goes along with them. Do you know why the crown prince of Veronica was feeling spiteful?” The Queen arched an eyebrow and he did his best to shake his head but the morphene weighed him down. “Because he thought I would trade her for soldiers. I all but laughed in his face, so he assumed to take her from me by force.”

The Queen's words churned slowly in his clouded head. How could he have not know of such a plot against the crown?

“The leak has been sealed, of course. Diplomatic talks with Veronican parties have been stopped until all traitors are rooted out. Your debrief is waiting in your office when you return to the palace. To be quite honest his plan was quite amateur and unwieldy. I can't imagine how he earned cooperation from anyone.” The Queen exhaled heavily and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Among other things, you'll need to take bids on a new body armor design. I cannot afford to have my most valuable assets vulnerable to maniacs with knives.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“Which brings us to the main reason I'm here disturbing your recovery – for which I apologize, First General, but it could not be helped.” Her eyes pierced him but not unkindly. “This country hasn't had the benefit of a king in nearly two and a half decades.” She stepped closer to the head of his bed. “My daughter will make an excellent queen, First General. Erza is intelligent, compassionate, and beloved of her people. I think –” The Queen paused and thoughtfully picked at the fuzz of the First General's blanket. “I think she makes me a better Queen. I admit I lack the heart my daughter wears on her sleeve. That is how I know my daugher is not like me,” she added with a whisper. “She cannot rule alone. She needs a companion. She needs someone to hold her up when the weight of the crown threatens to topple her.”

The First General's fingers would've curled into fists if he weren't so medicated. He'd always known the Princess would marry. Someone _not_ him. Knowledge of inevitable facts made the discussion hurt no less.

“Your Grace, this is not – it is not within my duties to know of these things.”

“Perhaps not but my question is this, is a year enough time for you to properly vet and train your replacement?”

The First General felt his blood run cold. _Of course._ He deserved to be thrown out. His Second Lieutenant should never have been assigned to the Princess. He'd failed.

“Yes.” The word clawed its way from his throat painfully.

“I'll need another year to train you for your new position, I suppose. At _least.”_ She sighed laborously as she clasped her hands at her waist again. “It'll be such a bother but it can't be avoided.”

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but I don't quite follow.”

“You have the heart of a king, Jellal,” she said softly. The use of his first name crashed through the haze of morphene. “She will take no one else. I've been entrusting her to you for a long time and it pains me less than it probably should to allow you her hand.”

“But –” The Queen quirked an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. “You can't – I'm not –”

“One of the perks of being the Queen, First General, is that I can do whatever I want.” She straightened haughtily. “Now, will you marry my daughter or do I have to sit through a string of insufferable prospects?”

The First General sighed. “Do you not care for the implications? There is no benefit to such a marriage.”

“Isn't there? Are you truly so blind? You disappoint me, First General.”

“Will they not judge her for taking a nameless husband? I am nothing.”

The Queen shook her head. “You _are_ a fool. To my daughter, you are _everything._ In two years time, you'll marry her and be what she needs. Don't give me cause to regret my decision.”

By the time his nurse returned to prod at him and check his bandages, the Queen had gone.

* * *

The First General's sleep was disrupted a second time when his hospital room door was flung open with little care for noise and both his commanders strode in. Behind them was the palace police officer who'd assisted him in extracting the Princess... and behind her was the Princess herself. She shoved past her escorts and dashed across the room. The First General felt her weight acutely across his chest as she embraced him with painful force.

“I thought you were going to die,” she choked out through her tears. When she pulled back her fingers brushed over his face before she boldly took his lips in a kiss.

The gasp came from the palace police officer. From the corner of his eye, the First General saw his commanders turn to face the opposite wall and spin her around by her shoulder, as well. Not that it mattered. The kiss could not be unseen. No words had ever been said but the First General had long suspected his _Secretum Oficii_ knew of his affair with the Princess.

“I'm not dead,” he finally said with a half-breath. “I might bleed out, though, if you don't take a gentler hand, Princess.”

“I'm so sorry,” she said with a gasp. “Forgive me, Jellal.”

“Are you injured?” His eyes swept greedily over her now dry and warm form.

“I'm unharmed, thanks to you.” The Princess kissed him again, softer. She glanced over her shoulder and her cheeks dusted pink. “Could we have a moment?”

“Of course, Your Highness,” the Second Commander said. She led her superior and the palace police officer from the room. Once they were alone, Erza swiped at a tear.

“You were stabbed,” she breathed, seeking his eyes. “I saw it happen, Jellal. I never thought –”

“That my job was truly dangerous?” he asked softly, reaching up to touch a strand of her hair. “Despite me telling you nearly everyday?”

More tears leaked from her eyes and her expression melted into one of despair. “I never wanted to think about it.”

“Then you shouldn't. If I'd died protecting your life, it would've been worth it.”

“You're cruel,” she said with a sob.

Jellal smiled crookedly. “I've been called worse things today.”

“Mother said she'd come to see you. I can't believe she'd –”

“The Queen can do whatever she pleases,” he whispered, repeating her earlier words.

“Did she... say anything to you?” Erza asked, her blush deepening.

“She said a lot of things.”

“Have I ever told you how much I dislike your appallingly smart mouth?”

“Only when it comes to words, Your Highness. I don't believe you've ever complained of its lesser known skills.” Erza's expression turned doubtful and he released her hair to brush his thumb over the swell of her bottom lip. “What is it, Princess?”

“Are you going to marry me or not? I'd prefer to know sooner rather than later.”

“Should I marry a woman who calls me cruel and dislikes my mouth?”

Erza leaned in and kissed him a third time. He wished he weren't confined to a hospital bed. “Marry me,” she whispered. “Or do I need to command you?”

“You've never needed a royal edict to earn my obedience, Erza.” When she pulled back he felt his body flush with numbness and exhaustion. His eyes threatened to slide closed.

“You're tired,” she murmured. “When will the doctors release you?”

“I don't know.” He was fading and when Erza smiled he tried to follow suit but knew his effort was lost in the morphene.

“Rest well, Jellal. I'll see if I can bribe one of your commanders to bring me back after sunset.”

“You can try. My men are infallible.”

Erza leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Sorano isn't a man.” She left a final kiss on his sloppily grinning lips. “I'll be back.”

The First General couldn't respond as his eyes were closing on their own. When he dreamed it was of red shrouded in white.


End file.
